


Friendship Bracelets Mean "Forever", Dude

by stellar_astrophel



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Also just pretend that Chloe and some others are in their classes sometimes, Cute Kid things, Fluff and Angst, Kid!Jeremy, Not real shippy but could be boyf reinds if you squint, Strangers to Friends, at times - Freeform, kid!Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:16:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellar_astrophel/pseuds/stellar_astrophel
Summary: So, Jeremy and Michael had to have met in Pre-K, yeah?[Kinda experimental in the sense of new writing techniques and concepts of mine. Tell me how I'm doing bro! ♡]





	Friendship Bracelets Mean "Forever", Dude

     Jeremy didn't really care for school. From what he could tell, schools were loud, full of people, and completely  _stupid_. 

      Yesterday, his dad had tried convincing him for the nth time by saying that he would learn to read and write like a big kid.

     "I can  _already_  read!" Jeremy had protested, stamping his foot. He received a slight nod in return. The four year old was dumbfounded: Shouldn't his dad know this?  After all, he was the one who would help him read anything within a ten foot radius. Jeremy's favorite was to shout all the signs they passed on car rides. He'd always get a "Nice one, sport!" from his dad whenever he read a big word. Like "mattress".

     "I know that," Mr. Heere scooped up his son in a single motion. (Times like this sort of makes him appreciate the fact that Jeremy is a little too light for his age.) "Don't go bragging about this" he whispers, "but you're what teachers are gonna call 'gifted',"

     A final tap on the nose was too much, and Jeremy gave in with giggles and playful swats at his dad. Upon calming down, the older man's explanation only made him more confused. Gifted? He frowns at the absence of wrapped presents he expects to be around.

     "If I have gifts, dossat mean I can stay home?"

     Mr. Heere laughs, ruffling Jeremy's hair.  
     "I'm afraid to say  _that's_  against the law, kiddo,"

     It took his dad everything in his being not to burst out laughing with the adorable shocked face that followed.

     So, now, Jeremy obediently walked with his mom down the looming hallways. Solely because he didn't want to be taken to jail.

     He looked up at his mom, who held onto his hand a little too tight. Her gaze was straight forward, and she walked with confedince in her heels. As they neared the door, she knelt beside him and spoke with a weak smile.

     "Now, Jere, I want you to try your best and make some friends,"

     The child only nodded, more distracted by the door swinging open to twenty-something four year olds running rampant on the other side. He tries to step back with wide eyes, but his mom's grip on his shoulders were too much. Honestly, she'd expected even more of a fight to get him through the door, and was relieved to see him follow behind her into the classroom with no issue. Immediately, the noise seems to swell around Jeremy. Everyone's laughing and talking with the occasional yelp or shreik. His nose crinkles with the smell of glue and air fresheners. For him, it's all too much. Small hands fly up to small ears in an attempt to block out some of it, and staying there despite a look from his mom. She doesn't stop him though, instead turning back to the youthful, joyful teacher with a sigh.

     For a minute or two, it helps. The static droning of sounds are more tolerable for Jeremy as he lets his eyes wander. Actually, he doesn't hate it as much as he thought he would. The room seems to break off into tons of little sections. Most seem crowded with kids holding a colorful array blocks, cars, and crayons. A certain bookself not 5 feet away catches his eye specifically. Hands still cupping over his ears, he watches the only kid around it. A girl, a little bigger than himself, sits back on a beanbag, feet propped up in a relaxing way. Her eyes dart across the thick pages of a small book. The teacher, eventually wrapping up the discussion with his mother, leans over towards him. It takes a few taps on the shoulder and a stern point to his hands in order for the boy to lower them and listen.

     "Why don't you ask her to show you around?" Jeremy is taken aback from the unexpected calm demeanor. The girl, overhearing the statement, immediately jumps up and bounds over to the three.

      "I can do that!" She holds out an olive skinned hand with tiny charm bracelets wrapping around it. Jeremy is concerned at first, but eventually gives in to the handshake after a moment.

     One small tug and the boy can already tell she's not planning on letting go. Two tugs. This girl is _strong_. Jeremy pouts, giving the two adults a look. It's to no avail, as his mom is already strutting out the door with a soft wave, and the younger woman he now knows as his teacher patting him on the back.  
     Before any protests, he is yanked forward by the girl.  
     "My name is Chloe Valentine, but you're only 'sposed to say my first name," she keeps walking while she talks, leaving Jeremy to just keep from tripping and stumbling to catch up. Chloe doesn't seem to care, her messy bun (held in place by who knows how many colorful barrettes) bouncing atop her head. "And! I'm five, so that means I'm the oldest. You're not older right?"

     "I'm four and a half," Jeremy answers, always ready to brag about his age. Chloe grins. The smaller child takes it as a good sign, smiling back. Weaving through the tables and centers, he's able to get a better feel for the place. Around every corner there's a kid knocking down a block building, another scribbling on a sheet of paper, and two boys over by what looked like a playhouse trying to shove some plastic vegetables in a toy microwave. The whole while, she's pointing at every preschooler they pass.

     "That's Madeline, she is always drawing. I don't like her,"

     "He is almost five, but not yet. I'm still oldest,"

     "Brooke's mommy is friends with my mommy,"

     The only preschooler that looks remotely interesting is a tanner-looking boy curled up behind a bin of nap time mats. He stares intently into... _something,_ Jeremy can't quite see, in his lap.

     "That boy over there doesn't talk. My mom said that I shouldn't be mean though, 'causse's anti-smochial. She told me so,"

     No one looks like they're actually learning.

     Jeremy wonders if showing up is enough to keep him out of jail. Meanwhile, Chloe seems proud of her leadership, holding a hand out to the final two kids to be introduced. They don't seem to notice though, the brunette still fiddling with the microwave. A smaller freckled boy had moved onto the toy fridge, seeing how many dolls he can fit inside.

    Jeremy is able to tear his wrist away from Chloe by the time they are at the playhouse.

     "That's Jake," she points to the brunette. "He's my boyfriend, but sometimes not because he saysee's Rich's boyfriend," The brunette now known to be Jake smiles.

     "I'mma be  _your_  boyfriend today!"

     Chloe beams, pulling him closer by his striped polo shirt. (Ultimately, Rich's "Wha?!" is widely uncared for.)

     "This boy is new! I'm in charge of showing him around! Teacher said so!" She shows Jeremy off as if he's her latest piece of macaroni art.

    "What'th yer name?"  Rich asks (no longer preoccupied by the dolls. Turns out, he could only fit three of the raggedy things into the plastic fridge before popping back open). Jeremy scrunches his face up, flinching from the sharp clatter of Jake's "food" falling out of its measly plate. This was  _not_  what his dad said school was like.

     "Jeremy Heere," he mumbles.

     "Jermeere?" Rich tries to look him in the eye. A daunting task considering Jeremy has his stare pinned on the ground, brows somehow furrowing even more. He doesn't even try to correct the boy, balling his fists.

     "I thought that I was gonna learn howta read and write 'eere!" The statement is directed to Chloe. At least she seems to know what she's talking about. Instead, Jake replies, "It's center time, Jermeere," he starts tapping his shoulder, getting louder by the word. "Look up! Hey! Look up! We can play house!"

     If only Jeremy was allowed to say "shut up".

     "No, my dad said that I'm supposed to learn things!" he crosses his arms. Chloe makes a sour face.

     "He just saiddat this is center time, Jermeere!" she stomps her foot.

     Hard.

     A wave of hush results, half the kids turn to watch the scene play out. Jeremy can't control the tears spilling out of huge steel blue eyes. School sucks.

     "My name's Jeremy! JAR- RAH- ME!" Every syllable is seperated by gulps of breath. "I wanna go home!"

     Chloe is the closest, Rich and Jake striding back. She looks ten times taller and meaner from the floor. For whatever reason, whole ordeal leaves the five year old fuming.

   "You're  _stupid_! I'm just tryna be your friend!" With that, there's a huff from Chloe, followed by the sound of heels clacking at an uncomfortable pace. It's coming from behind Jeremy, and he knows what's gonna happen. He might've not been in school long, but he knows that a teacher intervening is never a good thing.

     Now, he figures he knows what a heart attack feels like. The steps get louder, and a stern voice begins to echo throughout the room.

     "What on  _Earth_  is going on over here?"

    _I'm only four, his my life can't end now!_

     Despite his still-crying, shaking frame, Jeremy doesn't want to find out what happens next. He's able to get back on his feet and bolt just as the teacher begins to listen to Chloe's spiel. ("Jeremy is acting stupid! I _told_ him I was just tryina...")

     Where to go? The hustle and bustle has built itself back up, most of the class returning to their play-pretend worlds and crafts. He feels his ears pulse with the rising volume. Why does school have to be so loud?

     After what seems like for ever, the small boy is able to find a quiet space beneath a round table against the wall.

     He cries.

      Until he can't cry anymore. The shady darkness of the table helps, though Jeremy doesn't know why. The last of his weeping finally dies out when he rocks back and forth, able to convince his mind that it was his dad doing it just long enough to calm down. Hell, he'd take even his mom's cold, distant "comfort" over this. At least the teacher doesn't find him. From his vantage point, he can see the bottom half of the classroom door. Maybe he can sneak out and walk home?  Nope. The adult's heels pass in front of it. He'd be caught for sure.

     Jeremy sniffles, beginning plan B: wait there until his mom comes back. It sucks under there. It smells like pencil shavings and Jeremy is a little claustrophobic. Nonetheless, people watching is entertaining enough for the boy. He feels like a spy, leaning his back against the wall and keeping close watch on any and all movement he can see.

     A toddler's feet shuffle by.

     A box of crayons are pushed off a nearby desk.

     Big brown eyes stare at him.

     Chloe and Rich can be heard fighting over Jake.

     _Big brown eyes stare at him._

_Wait._

     He doesn't even stop to see who it is.

     "Go away!" Jeremy whisper-yells, waving a thin arm at the figure.

     The boy doesn't move. Instead, he cocks his head and blinks a few times. Jeremy does the same, trying to piece together what this kid's deal was. The first thing he notices is how big their eyes look. Maybe the things on his face have something to do with it, but Jeremy can't quite know for sure. He's bigger than Jeremy,  close to doubling his size. Bouncy waves of dark chocolate hair spill and stick out all over his head, covering a good portion of forehead. He sits on his sneakers, watching Jeremy from just outside of the table's shadow.

     Jeremy doesn't care. He just doesn't want this classmate getting him caught.

     "I said to go away!"  He says it a little louder this time, scooting back as well.

     The caramel-skinned boy does the exact opposite, crawling under the desk to make himself comfy right next to the other.

     "No!" Jeremy whines. His attempts at pushing him away is to no avail. If anything, Jeremy only manages to shove himself further into the stone wall. Great. The teacher is gonna find him down here! All because the kid Chloe warned him about won't leave him alone.

     "Please go 'way," This time, he actually gets an answer.

     The boy shakes his head, mess of hair wobbling along. Jeremy groans. Why are four year olds so mean to him?  By now, he's starting to expect that he's the only _good_  four and a half year old in the universe.

     Thus begins the standoff. Jeremy huffs everytime Other Boy moves or shuffles his feet. Other Boy goes stone still as if to say "I'm not going anywhere" whenever Jeremy pushes against his shoulder. The most grueling part was an array of sneezes from Other Boy, the dust bunnies getting to him. Jeremy was terrified, frantically trying to shush him. Luckily, no one beyond the table bats an eye their way.

     Other Boy is apparently bored as hell, pulling something out from under him. The same something as earlier.

     It's a pink DS.

     At first, Jeremy couldn't tell, the startup light effectively blinding him in surprise. As it settles onto his pupils, a small smile grows into a grin. _How the heck does Other Boy have one of those?_ Jeremy's mom wouldn't get  _him_  one in a million years ("Too expensive, Jere. Plus, you'd break it in a day,"). But _goodness_ , if he hadn't been planning on writing it onto his birthday and Christmas lists until he got his own.

     He can't tell what game Other Boy is playing, or how he's even controlling the screen, but the tinier boy already decides he loves It to death.

     New plan: Drop everything and be Other Boy's friend. There's always a second chance right?

     "I'm Jeremy!" He holds out a hand. Other Boy doesn't take it. Or say anything. Rude.

     "How come you don't talk? Y'know, Chloe called ya anti-smocial, does anti-smocial mean you don't talk?"

     The bigger kid's eyes flicker towards him a bit at the statement. Jeremy flashes a smile. Progress!

     "Well, she called _me_  stupid, but I'm not! You're not anti-smocial neither, I don't think. So I guess she might be stupid, whadda you think?"  Scooting from his bottom to his knees, he bounces, awaiting a response he's sure to get.

     Nothing. Other Boy pauses his game, scanning the space around him. The waiting tests the other preschooler's tolerance.

     "What's your for real name?" Jeremy sounds calmer than he actually is, biting his lip. The DS screen reflects on the glass things that rest on the bridge of Other Boy's nose. Eyes are hidden from Jeremy, hindering any way of reading the expression that passes along the kid's chubby-cheeked face.

     "...Michael?" His voice is timid, unsure. And higher than Jeremy pictured. _Quiet is good_ , he figures, _'cause then the teacher won't catch us._ Now, time passes quicker with neither boy trapped in utter loneliness. The pencil shaving odor is almost tolerable.

     "That's a pretty name!" Jeremy cheers, albeit careful to keep it down. He moves even closer to the boy he now can call Michael, to the point where their legs press together. Michael only shift back when Jeremy peers as close to the DS as he can, his hair in the way of seeing anything past.

      "Stoppit!" Michael pushes him out of the way. Jeremy pulls at the system, But the other is hesitant to let go.

     "How come you got a DS?" Jeremy finally sputters, eager to push every button at least a hundred times. Easily able to snatch it away, Michael holds the thing close to his chest.

     "I got it for my birthday, but it's not allowed at school! So don't tell no one or I'll... I'll...," he trails off, unable to think of something he'd actually do. Jeremy doesn't even have to think before jumping forward (bumping his head on the top of the table, but who _cares_?) holding out both hands.

     "I won't! Iwon'tiwon'tiwon't! Just lemme see! Pleeease!"

     Michael smiles. How come this boy actually likes talking to him? How come he actually likes talking back? He doesn't know. All he knows is someone his age is _talking_  to him.

     "Okay!" He giggles, shoving it over. "Isn't it so cool?"

      It's hard to see anything more than the screen itself, but each boy knows the other is jittery and ecstatic. Jeremy sucks at the game.

      Right as the level loads up, all that commences is a flurry of button smashing and gasps. Michael has to cover his mouth to stifle the laughs that come out of him. Against all odds, Jeremy manages to die five times in two minutes flat. He swings his arms and the DS down into his lap, nose scrunching up in frustration.

     "This game is hard!"

     Michael laughs, "Jus' takes practice,"

     "Well-" Jeremy cuts himself off, squinting into the dim light towards the other. "Hey, Michael?"

     "Yeah?"

     "What're the windows on your eyes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah do I suck at writing kids or what? Anywho, I wanna update regularly so,,, yep. 
> 
> Comment, kudos and all that jazz if you feel so inclined! But I'm not ur dad so do what you want lmao

**Author's Note:**

> Basil's back with a thing????? Woah
> 
> I'm basilee on tumblr if you'd like to say hi! ^-^
> 
>  
> 
> **♡ Tell me what you liked! What you didn't! Hell I'll even answer any questions? I live for feedback kiddos ♡**
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading this bullshit! I love yaaaa thiiiiiiiiis much!


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